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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453830">screaming of shattered beings</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flysafepapi/pseuds/flysafepapi'>flysafepapi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>painful, not painless [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Legend (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:49:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26453830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flysafepapi/pseuds/flysafepapi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy's life has never been easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>"Mad" Teddy Smith/Original Male Character(s), Ronald "Ronnie" Kray/"Mad" Teddy Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>painful, not painless [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The farm that he grows up on feels too restrictive, in a way. He loves the wide open spaces, the freedom of being able to disappear into the trees for hours at a time, but it gives him a strange itch under his skin that never really goes away. As far as he knows, his brother and sister never feel the same simmering discontent. For a time, once he’s old enough to know what he’s doing, the itch goes away whenever he gets into fights with the other children in his school class. When he tells his father about it, the disapproving look goes away and he smiles.</p><p>“Just like your dad, aren’t you? He’s never been good at the quiet life either.”</p><p>It makes him feel proud, to hear that, because his parents have both always been forthcoming with the fact that Edward and his siblings aren’t blood related, there’s been no hiding it, and whenever someone tells him that he shares something in common with the men who raised him makes everything a little easier, settles a bit. He knows that he’s only related to his calmer father by blood. It doesn’t matter to him. They’re his family, regardless of how he got there.</p><p>There’s no surprise in him when he realises that it’s the danger that he’s drawn to, considering who his family is, what they do. They’ve grown up around dangerous people, been comforted by hands that have taken lives. The thing is, he knows that he would never act on it, that giving in to the brutal, red-hot desire in his chest is a good way to get killed, but that doesn’t stop him from looking. When he does, his dad notices, because there’s not a lot that his dad doesn’t see, and looks at him with a knowing glint in his eyes.</p><p>“What have you done?”</p><p>“He was talking about you, saying that you don’t belong here.”</p><p>Rosie sighs at him and fumbles her handkerchief out of her pocket to press against his nose, stopping the flow of blood. He promised that he’d stop getting into fights, but he can’t help it. If people are talking about him, he can take it, but he draws the line at anyone saying something about his family, especially Rosie. His little sister. It’s in his blood to be a protector, his dad says, just the same as him.</p><p>“You don’t have to look after me, you know, I can take care of myself.”</p><p>“I know you can. Doesn’t mean I still won’t.”</p><p>They walk home together, arm in arm, like they used to when they were younger. He hasn’t been around much, in the last year, spending his time traveling between the farm and London, so he asks Rosie to tell him everything he’s missed, and the sound of her voice washing over him is calming. Billy must have already talked to their parents, because they’re waiting when Rosie opens the gate, arms crossed.</p><p>“Edward, what have I told you about fighting?” His dad pulls his head up, checking out his nose, and pushes the bone back into place with a wet scrape to the sound of Edward groaning.</p><p>“To make sure that you’re the last one standing.”</p><p>“And did you?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>“Good. Dinner’s ready, your brother is already inside.”</p><p>“Vincent!”</p><p>“Calm down, Arthur, it was just a little grievance between boys.”</p><p>When he goes to sleep that night, he has the recurring dream again. He’s standing in a room, so large that he can’t see the end, and there’s people everywhere. They try to talk to him, but the words they say don’t sound like anything he’s ever heard, and so he pushes through them. There’s never a theme to the people, they’re always different ages, races, genders, unknown to him, until he gets closer to the end of the room, he assumes. Then he starts to see people he knows, his family, but he can’t understand any of them either, except for his parents. “It’s almost time,” his father says, angry, but it’s tempered by the way his dad smiles at him. “Keep going, Edward. He’s on his way.”</p><p>Polly tells him he’s seeing something that other people can’t, that they’ve got gifts. From his gypsy blood, she says, and when he asks her what it all means, she says that the only person that can figure that out is him, which only frustrates him more. The dream has been happening for years, with different variations in what his parents say to him, and he’s not any closer to knowing.</p><p>Then a paranoid schizophrenic walks into his life. He doesn’t have the dream after that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. knife</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That there’s something wrong with him, something that Billy and Rosie don’t have, becomes pretty clear when he’s young. They weren’t supposed to be climbing the trees, they’d been told that they’d get hurt, but they do it anyway while no one is watching. Rosie keeps watch, staying on the grass below and promises that she’ll say she hasn’t seen them if anyone asks. He climbs too high. The branches are thinner, at the top, bending under his weight, and he steps more carefully, but it wouldn’t have made a difference, because the one he stops on snaps anyway. Billy’s shout as he goes plummeting back to the ground, and Rosie’s scream when he hits the grass, bring the adults running.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“We were climbing, and he slipped.”</p><p>It should hurt, he thinks, why doesn’t it hurt? His father picks him up, and his arm feels heavy, weighted down at his side. When he looks, it’s twisted, hanging at an angle that it shouldn’t be, and he can hear Rosie crying, babbling about how it was only supposed to be a bit of fun, no one was supposed to get hurt. There’s yelling, about how they shouldn’t have been so stupid, that they’d been warned for a reason, hands lifting him to carry him into the house. Throughout it all, Teddy just laughs, until tears are running down his face.</p><p>“Who’s this, then?”</p><p>He wasn’t supposed to be at the meeting. He’s supposed to be back at the house, with his cousins and Rosie and Billy, but the last few weeks had been filled with his attempts at convincing their parents to let him be there, and eventually they agree with the condition that he stands at the back, and keeps quiet. John stands on one side of him, Finn on his left, and he knows that his uncles have been told to watch him. It’s irritating, but he doesn’t say anything. His attention is on the men at the other side of the room, never dragging his eyes away even when John nudges him with a grin and a knowing laugh. The fact that his tastes run both ways have never been a secret, although it’s not that he prefers both. It’s that danger doesn’t confine itself to just one gender.</p><p>“My nephew, Teddy.”</p><p>“He wasn’t here last time.”</p><p>“No, he wasn’t.”</p><p>The conversation moves to business, after that little exchange, except for the man staring intently at him. Teddy stares right back, unblinking, and doesn’t think he imagines the little glimpse of approval and amusement in those dark eyes. He wonders if this is what his father means, when he says that there was something different about him from the first time they’d met, that he knew he wanted to know him. Probably not. For all his roughness, his father is a bit of a romantic, and Teddy, well, he never has been.</p><p>“I want to talk to the boy.”</p><p>If the room got any more tense, it just might explode, he thinks, everyone going rigid when the man finishes talking, turning to his dad to see what they should do. In turn, his dad turns to look at him, and after a minute of staring at him, looking for something that he finds, apparently, he nods.</p><p>“Two minutes, and we stay outside.”</p><p>Everyone leaves, slowly, and beyond the sight of his dad leading his father out, talking lowly to him about something Teddy can’t hear, he sees the brothers whispering, heads together, and it strikes him, again, how they look so similar but so different at the same time. Eventually, the room is empty except for them, and neither of them move, or speak, for a few long moments.</p><p>“Have you heard of me?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>It should be alarming, the speed at which the other man moves, getting too close too fast. He stays where he is, still in the middle of the room, and shivers when he feels the looming presence behind him. It’s in his gypsy blood, Esme says, the way he can sense danger before it happens.</p><p>“Are you scared of me?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>The knife is cold against his lips, dragging slowly along his cheek, and he knows that it’s split skin by the warm feeling that drips down his neck. The man behind him presses closer, adjusts his grip on the blade, and traces the tip along Teddy’s lips, silently demanding that he opens his mouth. He does, and closes his eyes when he feels the unyielding metal slide along his tongue, taste of copper flooding along his tastebuds when it catches on the edge of his cheek. There’s a hum from behind him, almost like approval, but a little like disappointment, too, a hand coming up to pull at his hair.</p><p>“You should be, kitten. Any sane men, well, they are, aren’t they?”</p><p>Teddy knows that there’s something wrong with him, that he doesn’t feel things like other people do, and it distantly occurs to him that this isn’t normal, feeling nothing with a threatening hand in his hair and a knife in his mouth, not unaware of the potential that this doesn’t end well for him but ignoring it. He’s got the devil inside him, his dad says, just like me. Maybe that’s why he groans when another hand presses into his neck, a heavy thumb digging dangerously into the vein that runs along under his skin.</p><p>He does what he’s always done.</p><p>Teddy laughs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We could run away right now. Take a horse, we’d be gone before anyone noticed.”</p><p>It was a running joke between them, one that they’d been making for years, ever since they were troublemaking kids, and it made Rosie smile despite herself. Teddy held his arm out to her, patting her hand in reassurance and fondness as she slid her arm into his. She looked beautiful in her dress and he said as much as they left the small room, grinning at her. He doesn’t say anything about how he’d just been in the room with Billy and the man his sister is about to marry, making the poor man practically die of fright when he details exactly what Teddy is going to do to him if he ever does anything to hurt his sister.</p><p>“Nicholas is a lucky man.”</p><p>His sister ducks her head, blushing prettily, and Teddy swears to himself that if Nicholas so much as makes his sister cry, he’s never going to see the light of day ever again. He doesn’t say anything to her, because he knows that his sister hates the darker parts of him, that she cringes away from the look he gets in his eyes sometimes.</p><p>“Is your man here?”</p><p>“Yes, and his brother and his wife. It was dad’s idea to invite them. It’s not business, Rosie,” he says, when she scoffs. Rosie stops, abruptly, and turns to him. Even before she opens her mouth, he knows what she’s going to say. They’ve had the argument too many times to count. He’s had the same argument with most of his family, that he’s making a mistake, he’s gotten himself into something he’s not strong enough to handle. Tommy tells him that he’s too much like his dad for his own good, and he knows that his aunts and uncles agree even if they don’t say anything.</p><p>“You’re going to get yourself killed one day, Teddy.”</p><p>“We all die eventually, Rose. Why not have a little fun before it happens, yeah?”</p><p>He hands Rosie off to his father, and slips into the church, finding his seat in between Ronnie and Frances. The girl is still wary of him, Teddy knows, even though she smiles at him like there’s nothing on her mind even when she shuffles away from him, closer to Reggie. What she thinks of him doesn’t matter, she’d become part of his family when she’d married Reggie. He hasn’t told anyone that she’d cornered him in the halls leading the bathroom in the club last week and begged him to run away with her.</p><p>“We can get away,” she said, and looked up at him, all big eyes and grasping hands. She’d had a haunted look in her eyes, like his dad gets if he’s been away from the city for too long, and he knows that Reggie put it there. Frances reminds him of Rosie, not made for their life, too soft for the dark and the danger. “I see the bruises and the cuts, Teddy, you don’t have to stay with him, you don’t have to stay.” Frances is fragile, he recognises, and that’s a dangerous thing to be in their lives. “He doesn’t do anything that I haven’t asked for, Frances. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you, but I’m not leaving.”</p><p>Frances hasn’t talked to him since, but he feels her watching him sometimes, and when he turns to look she’s got a strange look in her eyes, like she’s just now realising why they call him mad. Maybe he is, he’s never been evaluated, but he knows that Ronnie has. Ronnie sees things sometimes, things that aren’t there, and when Reggie isn’t around, Teddy is the only one that can bring him back. Maybe this is what his father means, when he talks about how he’d known that his dad was the only person for him, when he’s a little drunk and tells Teddy that he’s just like his dad, when they’ve got a unnatural calling for danger.</p><p>Ronnie is dangerous, in the same way that Teddy’s family are, violent and good at it, but he’s dangerous in another, far more fatal way, that he knows will end up killing him one day because he’d never let anyone hurt Ronnie, not his brother, not even his family.</p><p>He’s got Teddy’s heart in his hands, and he’d still love the insane, unhinged man even if Ronnie tore it into pieces.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can someone shut him up, please!”</p><p>Charlie and Eddie are getting more bold, it seems, going for Teddy when they don’t have a hope in hell at getting to Frances. They’d ambushed him on the way home, and he’d given them a good fight but there’s only so much he could have done when there’s six of them and he’s alone. The torture gang, he’s heard they’re called, and he’s never been interested in them or anything they do, so why people are afraid of them is unimportant, until they’ve got him tied to a chair and it’s hard to see through the blood in his eyes. Charlie looms up close to him, smirking at him like he’s got the upper hand here, and slaps Teddy when he won’t stop laughing, only getting louder when it splits his lip and spills blood down his chin.</p><p>“What are the Krays planning?”</p><p>“You’re all fucked, mate, whether or not I tell you a thing.”</p><p>The punch to the stomach drives the air from his lungs, and he doubles over as much as he can with his arms tied together behind his back with rough rope that chafes his wrists, and laughs, though without the aid of breathing, it sounds more like a wet hissing. How long has he been gone? At least a day, long enough for someone to realise that something’s wrong. It wouldn’t be hard for them to know what’s happened to him, there’s not a lot of people that would be stupid enough. Charlie and Eddie are bad at doing their research, apparently, if they had he doubts they would have dared to touch him, but he’s kind of pleased they did. Their deaths aren’t going to be slow or pleasant, and Teddy can’t wait to watch it.</p><p>“You made a mistake, Charlie.”</p><p>“Oh, I did, did I? Tell me what mistake I made, then, taking Ronnie’s whore.”</p><p>He’s been called worse before, it doesn’t bother him that the only thing people see him as is a plaything for Ronnie. Everyone that matters already knows the truth, and everyone else can go fuck themselves.</p><p>“You should have checked to make sure I am who I say I am.”</p><p>When they laugh, he joins in, even though it sends pain radiating through him from the ribs that are almost certainly broken. The facade of an orphan is one that he’s carefully cultivated, separating himself from his family for his own reasons, and apparently he’s made it so believable that no one thinks to question it. Why would they, he’s just the pretty thing that Ronnie Kray decided he wanted, isn’t he? There’s no importance to him. Look harmless, his dad had taught him, never let anyone see that you’re the threat until you strike. Apparently he’s done his job a bit too well.</p><p>“Alright, kid, I’ll humour you. Who are you?”</p><p>It’s satisfying, to see the blood draining from Charlie’s face.</p><p>“Ever heard of the Shelbys, mister Richardson? The oldest brother, he’s got three kids. There’s Billy, Rosie, and Edward.”</p><p>Charlie curses and rips into his men with a vengeance, screaming about how they could be so stupid, forgetting that it had been him that gave the order and that he hadn’t been careful either. It must be hard to ignore him, Teddy thinks, when he laughs again, deep and shaking and never-ending. At least until Charlie waves a hand and something heavy slams into his head, before everything goes black.</p><p>The sound of an explosion snaps him awake. If the sound hadn’t, the shockwaves would, rumbling through the ground and shaking everything like an earthquake. Something has cut the lights, so he can’t see much through the sudden darkness, just the faint silhouettes of bodies, but the sounds of a fight are pretty clear. How long has he been sitting in this chair, now? It has to be a long time, because he can’t feel his legs anymore, although he’s not sure if that’s from the numbness that comes with not moving for hours or because of the hammer they’d taken to his ankle, shattering the bones like eggshells. It had been difficult, to keep himself from screaming when they’d done it, but he’s damned if he’d give them the satisfaction of an audible reaction. Just the fact that he thrashes in the binds is irritating enough.</p><p>For a moment, when hands grab him roughly around the shoulders, he kicks out with his good leg, before he realises that he recognises the feeling of rings digging into his bare skin, and then he settles. The rope has rubbed grooves into his wrists and covered the thin skin and the rough material with blood, when he’d tried to work his hands free. “Knew you’d come,” he mumbles, and can’t hold himself up when the rope is suddenly gone, pitching forward, and he would have hit the floor if arms hadn’t quickly grabbed him around the waist, lifting him up like he weighs nothing. “Just had to wait.” He’s unsteady when he’s lowered back to the ground, only able to put his weight on the one leg, and has to throw an arm around Ronnie’s shoulder to keep himself from hitting the ground.</p><p>“Are they dead?”</p><p>“Not yet, but I’m sure your dad will make them wish they were. Terrifying man, he is, wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”</p><p>“I want to do it.”</p><p>“No, I think it’s time for you to rest, hey? There’ll be all the time in the world to make them pay later.”</p><p>It should be humiliating, he thinks later, that he’s being carried like a child in front of his entire family, give or take a few, but at the time, he just settles closer and hums, so tired all of a sudden. It had been the adrenaline that was keeping him going, when they’d cut him, when the burning metal had been pressed against his stomach, when they’d taken to his ankle with the hammer. Now that it’s gone, he finds himself having trouble keeping his eyes open, and Ronnie isn’t helping. There’s only been a small amount of places that he’s felt truly safe, in his life. Between his fathers, when he was younger, he knew he was safe then, and when he got a little older, his safe place had always been with his older brother and his cousins, but right now, held tight in the arms of a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic who growls at anyone that gets within two feet of Teddy? There’s no place in the world safer than that.</p><p>“Love you, Ronnie.”</p><p>Ronnie shifts awkwardly, aware of Teddy’s family all around him. He’s never been scared of anything, not really, because like Teddy, he knows that Reggie has got his back no matter what, that their families would both do anything to protect them even when they don’t need it, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t at least intimidated by the small, vicious man that Teddy calls his dad. Intimidated, but mostly impressed, especially after tonight. He’d never seen someone cut out another person’s eyeball so smoothly.</p><p>“Alright, sleep now, hey? I’ve got you, you silly boy.”</p><p>It’s not saying the words, Teddy knows he probably never will, but he knows that it’s there, hidden beneath the words he does say, and nods, closing his eyes and resting his head against Ronnie’s shoulder. He doesn’t need the words, anyway. This is enough.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. sister</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Rosie, what are you doing here?”</p><p>“Frances asked me to come.”</p><p>She hadn’t, but Teddy doesn’t need to know that. She knows that he never talks to Frances anyway, not unless she talks to him first, but the risk of him finding out about her lie is slim to none. Truthfully, she thought that Frances was playing a dangerous game, one that would only lead to pain that the other woman wouldn’t be able to handle, but she keeps her opinions to herself. Teddy tells her enough that she knows Frances hadn’t been the right choice, that she was trying to make her own Kray into something that he wasn’t, something that he would never be. Dangerous thinking.</p><p>“You look good. How’s Nicholas and the baby?”</p><p>“Exhausting. Why don’t you introduce me, Edward?”</p><p>Not even bothering to hide her smile at the glare Teddy gives her for using his full name, she takes the empty seat beside him and leaves her purse on the table when she reaches into it for a cigarette. She’s never met the Krays face to face, but it’s not hard to figure out which two of the many men sitting at the table they are, and she turns to them first, studying them. In a way, she’s surprised that Teddy hadn’t gone for Reggie, all pretty boy looks and charming when he takes her hand to introduce himself, but then she turns to look at Ronnie and she understands. Possibly unaware to him, her dear brother has a type, and this man hits every single one of them without even trying. She can see the appeal, in a way.</p><p>“I’d like to talk to you alone, Mister Kray,” she says, ignoring Teddy hissing at her to stop, and looks both of them dead in the eyes, making it perfectly clear that she’s talking to both of them, not one or the other. As far as she’s heard, they come as a unit anyway, and she knows that what she says to one of them will be shared with the other as soon as she leaves. Might as well deal with both of them at the same time, save herself the trouble. “You can leave.” Her eyes fall on the men still sitting, pointedly, and she doesn’t bother to conceal her eyeroll when they stay in their seats until Reggie nods, dismissing them. Men, can’t do anything unless the boss tells them it’s okay. “You too, Teddy. Wait at the bar, I’ll be over in a few minutes.” He goes, but she can tell that he’s not happy with it, and he doesn’t look away from them once he’s made it to the bar where he stands with the others she’d sent away.</p><p>“What’s this about, then? Were you sent to tell us something for your family, or is this a social call?”</p><p>Rosie has spent a lot of her time around men that make their living in the dangerous and the illegal, so when the pretty one looks her over, she just looks back at him with a coolly blank face, unimpressed. They remind her of children, just for a second, playing at something that they have no idea about, not truly. In another life, she might have taken him up on the hint of an offer he’s giving, but she’s happily married, and he looks too breakable. Not that he’s not dangerous, or that he’s fragile, no, but he looks like the type of person to have a set expectation of his women, and Rosie is many things but she’s never followed what people say she should do.</p><p>“Neither, Mister Kray. I’m here to talk to you about Teddy.”</p><p>It’s almost comical, the way Reggie leans back in his chair, feigning disinterest while Ronnie sits up straighter, expectantly waiting.</p><p>“I’d like to start by saying that you don’t scare me, either of you. I was raised by people more fearsome than either of you could ever hope to be, so I don’t scare easily, if at all. Now, for reasons that I don’t understand, Teddy’s chosen the two of you, in different ways of course, but it amounts to the same thing. Neither of us take family lightly, when we’re in, then we’re in. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about you, in his own twisted way, because let’s be honest, my brother isn’t normal.”</p><p>None of the family talk about it, like an open secret, but every one of them are aware that Teddy is different, that something in his brain works different than theirs. It’s not a problem, and they don’t treat him any different, but the thought is always there.</p><p>“As I’ve been told, Ronnie, neither are you. Maybe that’s why my brother chose you, I don’t know, frankly I don’t care to know.”</p><p>“I don’t know either.”</p><p>She blinks at him, raises an eyebrow at the interruption, and takes a sip of the drink Teddy had left behind. Vodka with a hint of apple juice, the same thing her brother has been drinking for years.</p><p>“I’m here because it’s come to my attention that, lacking a self-preservation instinct, Teddy would follow both of you to the ends of the earth even if it killed him.”</p><p>Her eyes watch both of them carefully, taking careful note of their reactions. If she was under any illusions that her brother had been taken in by them for their own gain, the way Ronnie’s hand tightens around his glass tells her otherwise. Good. They might not talk much anymore, but Teddy’s her younger brother, and she’ll always look over him.</p><p>“I want to make it perfectly clear, to the both of you, that if anything happens to him, I will kill you. I know, I don’t look like much, but make no mistake, I can do much more than my appearance suggests. If word reaches me that one hair on his head has been harmed, I will kill you, and like my father once said in a similar situation, you will not see me coming until I’m right behind you and by then it will be far too late.”</p><p>“And how will you do that, love?”</p><p>“Well, Mister Kray, it’s actually quite easy. I’d take Frances.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. pills</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the arrests, he tries to move on, eventually. Once he’s learnt to breathe around what feels like a gaping hole in his chest. There’s never been a shortage of people to choose from, even with his reputation of being insane, but none of them even come close to filling the void that seems to follow him around. They’re always either too something; too dull, too quiet, too soft. He’s not built for soft, has never been the kind of person satisfied with normal and unremarkable. The thrill, the pain, that’s what he wanted, and he knows that none of them can give that to him. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was only meant to be a one time thing, just a night, and then he was falling too far too fast, unable to claw himself back up when it all came crashing down. He would have followed Ronnie to the ends of the earth if he’d only asked, and instead, he’s been told to stay away, that there’s nothing left for him with either of them anymore. He can’t even be mad about it. It was only ever going to end like this, leaving him feeling like he’s going to break open at the edges.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>Ada’s voice is soft, careful, like she’s afraid of saying the wrong thing and he’ll break into pieces. Maybe he will, it certainly feels like it. Everything seems harder these days. Just getting himself up out of bed is a struggle, the desire to just sink into the blankets and block everything out almost overwhelmingly strong. His dad always warned him that he loved too much and gave too much of himself away, that it would come back and haunt him one day. He hadn’t quite believed it, it was just the worries of a parent, wasn’t it? Except not, it feels like there’s nothing of him left.</p><p>“Teddy, you can’t keep doing this,” his father says, but he doesn’t know what else to do except force a smile, tell everyone that he’s okay, he’s fine. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, so he doesn’t do anything. The house is quiet during the days, when everyone is gone, except they’ve started leaving someone behind to watch him like he’s a child. He feels their careful eyes on him when he comes out of his room, wondering if today is going to be the day that he shatters. The bruises on his arms and the scratches on his back fade eventually, just like the scent of cigar smoke and whiskey on his clothes, his memories of heavy hands on his hips and dangerous, knowing smiles. What does he have, when he forgets everything?</p><p>“Eat something, please.”</p><p>For their benefit, he empties half the plate that they put in front of him, but it’s tasteless, when it doesn’t taste like bitter ash, clinging to his tongue thickly and refusing to wash away when he gulps down glasses of water. He hides the bottles of rum in his room, pretends that he’s not sitting up at night, drinking himself into numbness because he can’t handle anything without the buffer of haziness over his senses. Pill bottles fill the drawers beside his bed, half empty and covered in fingerprints, the only way he falls asleep anymore. Sometimes he wakes up and forgets that he’s alone, reaches out for a body that isn’t there, won’t be there ever again. He’s never been the type to cry, but he cries then, stuffing his hand in his mouth so no one hears him while the hot tears roll down his face.</p><p>“I’m okay, dad, don’t worry.”</p><p>It’ll kill him, eventually, he knows. Either the drink, or the pills, or some combination of the two. Maybe from the scratches that he gives himself as best he can, running over the ones that Ronnie had left behind, the last time they’d been together, determined never to lose them. He’s losing his mind, he can feel it drifting away piece by piece, washed away by every bottle of rum he drinks alone, and can’t gather the strength to stop. He’s not like the rest of his family, he doesn’t have their strength, the resolution to keep going when everything goes to hell.</p><p>“What am I supposed to do?” He whispers, to an empty room, to a person that can’t hear him, and breaks just a little more.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. glass</h2></a>
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    <p>Teddy had been in love once before, back when he was young and the world hadn’t broken him down yet. When he still believed in things like fairy tales, and love, and that he’d find something that even came close to what he sees when he watches how his fathers are together. When he thinks back on it, he can’t believe he’d ever been that naive.</p><p>It’s always been a flaw of his, how he feels too much, loves too hard and too violently, with the same ferocity that burns through the rest of his life. From the first moment he’d seen the other boy, because they were just boys back then, fourteen and believing that the world was their for the taking, he’d been caught. He was foolish, he knows now, to believe that anything other than heartbreak was waiting for him at the other end of that road, but he’d gone down it anyway. It was Nicholas’ eyes that he’d noticed first, the kind of blue-grey that looked like the sky clearing after a storm.</p><p>Teddy knew his place, even back then, though he’d hated it, hadn’t accepted his station in life just yet. No matter how much money they had, how many high society events they went to, he would always be the boy with the messed up head, raised in a family of killers and criminals. Nicholas, he was different, from the other side of town, and Teddy could tell just looking at him that he’d never done any hard work in his life, would never have the marks and calluses on his hands like Teddy has. No, he was proper and kind and too good for Teddy, but that didn’t stop him from letting the other boy take his hand and tell him what their future was going to be like, when they escaped this place together.</p><p>He should have seen it coming. Sometimes, with his family being who they were, he forgets that certain things they do that aren’t accepted, and boys kissing boys? Well, that was one of them, and he’d gotten careless. There’s a special kind of pain, when you’re being held back by a group of men, while another few drag the only person that makes you happy away from you. He’d fought, fought like the devil his father would say, screamed and kicked and tried to twist away, but he was fourteen and didn’t know then what he knows now, and could only watch in horror at the scene in front of him. It still haunts his dreams, the noise, and the aftermath. He can still hear the mocking laughter, when they’d finally let him go and he’d scrambled across the ground, reaching for the lifeless body on the stones. It still hurts, deep in his chest, to remember the way those beautiful eyes were dim, the life drained out of the with the blood pooling underneath his knees. He’d begged Nicholas to wake up until his voice gave out. </p><p>The funeral had been bad enough, but the accusing stares of Nicholas’ family had been worse. You did this, their glares said, this is your fault. If you had fought harder, he’d still be here. His own family comforted him as well as they could, each in their own way, but nothing erases the guilt and the hatred he feels towards himself for being so stupid. His Nicholas, the shining star, the one that had so much to live for, was dead and Teddy was the one still breathing. Some nights, Teddy thinks of joining him.</p><p>It’s easy, afterwards, to stay away from anything that he thinks might even remotely cross the line between friend and something more. Whenever he thinks about it, he feels the cold grip of fingers around his neck, and his boy’s voice hissing in his ears, “You did this to me, Teddy Smith, and now you have to live with it.” And so he does.</p><p> </p><p>He’s hesitant, practically stubbornly resistant, to open himself up to Ronnie, after they meet. It’s easier, for a time, to keep it strictly physical, keeping his heart out of it, but slowly, little by little, he finds himself falling anyway. Ronnie’s a study in contradictions, rough edges but soft when they’re alone, violent and protective and more often than not, outright crazy.</p><p>“You came to see me.”</p><p>It feels wrong, to see Ronnie in this place, everything white like all the colour has been leached out, all except the intense blue of his eyes, more lucid now than the last time. They should both be back in that trailer in the woods, close enough to the city for convenience but far enough away that they’re alone, not in this place where everything they do is carefully monitored.</p><p>“I thought I told Albie to tell you not to come.”</p><p>“Yeah, he did, Ron. I came anyway.”</p><p>The man nods, to himself mostly, and the silence that falls between them is tense and uncomfortable, not the easy way he remembers and desperately needs again. There’s something wrong with his head, he knows it, there’s always too much noise and it gets too full sometimes, like the thoughts will just keep building up and up until he bursts, except when Ronnie is around. Everything goes blessedly quiet, when he’s there.</p><p>“My mum used to have these little knickknacks around, when me and Reggie were boys. Just as decoration, lining the cupboards in every room. Tiny things, made of porcelain and glass, all delicate, right, like they’d shatter if you were too rough with them, break into too many pieces to put back together.”</p><p>“That sounds nice.”</p><p>“And I remember, yeah, there was this one, this little horse, rearing up on it’s little stand, and I had to play with it. It was just calling to me, telling me that I had to pick it up, just to look, just to feel the, the shiny glass under my fingers. But I was too hasty, wasn’t I, too careless, and it crumbled into dust in my hands.”</p><p>He sounds more alert, at least. The last time Teddy had visited, Ronnie hadn’t even known who he was, let alone be able to hold a conversation.</p><p>“You’re that horse, Teddy.”</p><p>“Ronnie-”</p><p>“You don’t look it, and you don’t think you are, mate, but you’re fragile just like that tiny glass horse.”</p><p>It’s hard to breathe, suddenly, like the air in the room is thick and heavy, too hard to drag into his lungs and stinging tears out of his eyes.</p><p>“And you’ve got to leave, because if you stay, you’re going to shatter in my hands and no one will be able to put you back together.”</p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know, and it’s been a good few years, hasn’t it, but it’s over now and that’s just- Just the way things go, isn’t it?”</p><p>Ronnie isn’t looking at him. He keeps his eyes fixed on the window and the view beyond it, squinting out at the tops of the trees like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.</p><p>“Don’t do this. Please, I can do better, I can-”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He snaps his mouth shut, eyes burning, and stares at the only person that had managed to get him to open himself up again, after Nicholas.</p><p>“No, you need to be free, Teddy, and you can’t do that if you’re stuck with me.”</p><p>“I’m never going to be free, why can’t you see that?” He doesn’t mean to scream, but he can’t help it, everything bursting out of him at once, “You were- Please, don’t make me leave. Ronnie, please.”</p><p>His Kray turns to look at him then, finally, taking in the white knuckled grip Teddy has on the arms of the chair, the wetness on his cheeks. Teddy can’t breathe, staring back at him, into the familiar blue eyes, and tries to say more but there’s a painful tightness in his chest cutting the words off before they can form.</p><p>“Don’t come back, Teddy. Go home, and forget all about me.”</p><p>It’s a mystery, how he manages to get himself back to the car, having no recollection of leaving the room let alone making his way through the halls and outside. Charlie and Violet are waiting for him, waiting patiently against the car, and they grab him as his knees finally give out, holding them up between them with a little effort. “It’ll be alright, Teddy, it’s okay. You’re okay.” It feels a little like what he imagines getting stabbed in the chest feels like, sharp and cutting and a hot, building pain.</p><p>In the back of his mind, he thinks he can hear Nicholas laugh, bitter and mocking, and hears the whisper in his ear again. “How does it feel to be the one bleeding into the dirt?”</p>
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